


Heroic

by Flenser



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Jearmin Summer Splash 2015, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-12
Updated: 2015-08-12
Packaged: 2018-04-14 05:06:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4551642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flenser/pseuds/Flenser
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean and Armin sittin' in a tree</p><p>F-U-C-K-I-N-G</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heroic

**Author's Note:**

> This piece is part of the Jearmin Summer Splash 2015 - a team based writing competition!  
> Prompt: "The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry"  
> Team: Canon  
> Word Count: 2,885
> 
> Based in the same universe as [The Human Dress](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1171431). It's been in my brain for _ever_. Thanks, [Adri](http://cunttwatula.tumblr.com/), for giving me a great reason to share it!
> 
> Banner provided by [benriya-nic-kerdoodle](http://benriya-nic-kerdoodle.tumblr.com/)
> 
>  
> 
> **Voting for this fic has concluded! A huge thanks to everyone who participated! It really means a lot!**

_Some R &R this turned out to be_, Jean thought bitterly, sailing through the trees. He’d just returned from a solid month on assignment, training cadets on new field maneuvers while Armin inspected the rebuilding effort and sent long, detailed missives back to the Commander. Both activities kept them busy from dawn until dusk - Armin often working by candlelight long past the time Jean collapsed into his bedroll - which left Jean in the particular state of frustration he was in now. Their hectic schedule left very little time to spend together in a manner in which Jean found truly satisfactory.

It wasn’t like the rushed, covert blowjobs and occasional fingering weren’t _nice_ \- they just weren’t the same as laying Armin out in a bed, slowly picking him apart with his hands and mouth, listening to him moan and carry on as loudly as he pleased because they weren’t constantly within five feet of other soldiers, sore from fucking all night instead of from being in a saddle all goddamned day and sleeping on the cold, hard ground. Yes, an entire _week_ to remind his boy exactly what he meant to him, and in every way imaginable before he was shipped off to the capital with the Commander to make nice to the Legion’s supporters, with Jean sent to help reestablish the Maria outpost. And then when would he see Armin next? They would be based out of separate camps, with separate duties and miles apart with only their correspondence to keep them company.

They’d stumbled in the night before, filthy and too exhausted to manage much more than a bath and a bit of necking before passing out tangled together in Jean’s bed, glad of the privacy but too tired to take advantage of it. When dawn came too soon they were separated, Jean to debrief and Armin back to the Commander’s side as his assistant, and the Commander - that _fucking_ cockblock, Smith - kept him busy and away from Jean until afternoon mess. They barely had time enough for a quick dinner together and an all-too-brief squeeze in a dark corner of the armory before they were kitted out with new blades and a harness Jean had broken while in the field, their compulsory hour of daily 3DMG exercises hanging over their heads before they could _finally_ settle down for the night and spend some time together. While Jean understood the need to keep their skills sharp he thought it suspect that Smith would order training the day after returning from an expedition and chalked it up to the old man not getting any and being petty enough to keep all his subordinates too exhausted to get any, too. A few calculating looks thrown Jean’s way gave him the idea that it was particularly aimed at him, though.

“Fucking bastard,” Jean muttered to himself, the familiar hiss and swish of his gear as he flew through the trees an oddly relaxing backdrop to his frustrated musings. “Fucking cockblocking, piece of shit, rat bastard _son of a whore_.” He angrily fired his grapple into the nearest tree with a branch thick enough to hold his weight and swung wide, pulling up short and landing on the branch in a huff. Somewhere behind him he heard Armin change his trajectory to follow and soon enough the blond appeared next to him, eyes bright and skin flushed with exertion, golden hair falling loose from his ponytail and sticking to his neck with sweat. Jean stared - he couldn’t help but stare when he saw Armin like that, still somehow caught off-guard and knocked breathless even after nearly a year together, and just like that his anger was gone, diffused in the way that only Armin could unconsciously cause.

“What?” Armin asked, slightly out of breath. “Didn’t you gas up before we left?”

Jean reached out and grabbed Armin by the wrist, pulling him stumbling into his chest and buried his face into the crook of his neck, inhaling deeply. He smelled of sweat and bleach and the wild herbs they’d brought back from beyond the walls and the unmistakable _something_ that always reminded Jean that he was home.

“H-Hey,” Armin breathed, wrapping his arms around Jean’s shoulders and resting a hand at the back of his neck. He chuckled airily when Jean nibbled at his throat.

Jean smiled: serious, thoughtful Armin Arlert could laugh every now and then and the sound was so beautiful Jean had vowed long ago to make him do it as often as possible.

“Are you all right?”

Jean didn’t answer, just mouthed his way up Armin’s throat to his jaw and placed a lazy kiss there before lightly dragging his lips to trace them along Armin’s ear. Armin huffed a little laugh and gave the back of Jean’s neck a gentle squeeze.

“Come on,” he murmured. “Only half an hour left.”

“No.” Jean smirked against Armin’s flushed skin and slid his hands down to grip his firm little ass, pressing their hips together so Armin could feel _exactly_ how much he cared about their training right then. 

Armin made an inarticulate sound of amusement and moved to step away, but Jean held fast, constricting his arms around Armin’s waist and laying a playful pinch on a bit of exposed skin where Armin’s shirt had come untucked from his pants. Armin yelped and jerked in surprise, and Jean suddenly found himself off-balance, feet scrabbling against the slippery oak bark. Armin’s eyes went wide and he flung his hands out to grab him by the chest strap, but Jean proved too heavy and he fell with a shout. Well trained as he was, it didn’t take but a second for Jean to fire his gear into the underside of the branch. He heaved a relieved sigh when he felt the grapples connect and swallowed tightly against the swooping sensation in his stomach as he bottomed out several feet above the ground.

“Jean, you reckless ass,” Armin scolded, leaning over to catch his eye as he was on the upswing. His pretty features were schooled into a mask of annoyance, but there was a brightness in his eyes that Jean recognized as fear.

Jean grinned up at him apologetically, kicking out to slow his swinging and bring himself to a stop. The last thing he wanted to do was give the poor man a fright, especially over falling out of a god damned _tree_. “Sorry, baby,” he replied sheepishly. “Help me up?”

Armin’s gaze softened slightly at the endearment, and he squatted to reach down as Jean began the task of hauling himself up one of the cables. Jean flashed him another grin as he reached up, but instead of gripping Armin’s hand as expected, he latched on to Armin’s ankle and _pulled_.

“ _Jean!_ ” Armin shrieked as he toppled off the branch. He fired his gear, grapples landing not far from Jean’s own, but he ended up closer to the ground. He turned his face up to glare as Jean lowered himself to Armin’s level. “You’re an ass, Jean Kirschtein.”

Jean smirked and grabbed one of Armin’s cables to cease his minute swinging and pull him a little closer. “You love me.”

“Walls know why.”

“ _I_ know why,” Jean drawled suggestively. He wiggled his fingers into Armin’s side, earning an indignant snort.

“I’m not _that_ easy,” Armin huffed and tried to swing away, but Jean held firm. “What?”

“We should fuck.”

Armin hummed in amusement, then stopped when he saw the determined gleam in Jean’s eyes. "What, _now_?" he asked. “You’re not serious.”

“Deadly serious.”

"Someone will see."

"With how loud you get we're more likely to be _heard_ ," Jean countered and grabbed Armin by the front of his pants to pull him close.

Armin half-heartedly swatted at the hands slowly working open his belt. "I’m serious. It'll be dark soon and someone will come looking for us."

"Then we'll have to be quick," Jean said with a grin and leaned in to place a hot, wet kiss on the soft skin just behind Armin's ear.

Armin shuddered slightly and made a small noise. “We’re hanging from a tree, Jean.”

“So?”

“So?” Armin prompted.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never thought about it.” Even before they got to train in the gear Jean had imagined a thousand titillating uses for it. There was no way he was the only one. “It’s a great idea.”

“It’s a terrible idea.”

"Come on," Jean cajoled lowly and leaned back, hand slowly sliding down the front of the blond's pants. "How long's it been?"

Armin turned his slightly hazy eyes toward the sky to note the position of the quickly setting late-summer sun and paused a moment, calculating. "Thirteen days and fifteen hours," he answered in a breathless rush and dropped his gaze to meet Jean’s. They stared at one another for a heated moment before Armin’s resolve finally snapped and his hands flew to Jean’s belt just as Jean ripped open Armin’s own.

Jean yanked the seat of Armin’s pants as far as the harness would let him, low enough to be able to reverently run his hands over the soft, smooth curves of his ass. He sighed appreciatively.

"God, I love what being on horseback for a month does to your ass,” he growled and gave Armin’s left cheek a smack, enjoying the way the flesh bounced and jiggled under his hand. “Wrap your legs around my waist."

Armin gripped his cables to steady himself as he did as he was told, hooking his ankles together at the small of Jean’s back, creating a surprisingly solid position for himself.

"You better get your fill now, because after this week I likely won't be anywhere near any horses for a while,” he warned, hands dipping down once again to open Jean’s zipper. “I'm going to get flabby from sitting in the library and researching all day."

"I will _never_ get my fill of your ass," Jean murmured with a rough, pointed squeeze and was rewarded with a groan, " _especially_ when it’s flabby." Jean groaned himself when he finally felt Armin’s deft fingers wrap around his painfully hard cock to pull it free from his pants. “ _Fuck_.”

“Eloquent,” Armin said wryly, running his palm over the head and fingering the little bit of wetness there.

Jean shuddered at the sensation and snorted. “Sorry I’m not more like - who’s that one you just found? Black?” He pulled a little bottle of oil from his jacket pocket and uncapped it, slathered his fingers liberally with the stuff and pushed Armin away a little bit to comfortably swipe them, cold and wet, down the crack of his ass.

“ _Blake_ ,” Armin hissed, hand on Jean’s cock flexing, “and he was a genius. ‘ _Terror the human form divine, and secrecy[the human dress](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1171431)_ ’ doesn’t speak to you?” He moaned loudly when Jean slid one finger inside and slowly started to work it in and out.

“The only human form that speaks to me is yours, and it is _fucking divine_ ,” Jean told him, adding a second finger.

Armin gasped and shifted his hips. “That’s not what that mea-”

Jean stilled his hand as he fixed Armin with a pointed look. “Are we really going to discuss some dead guy’s poetry with my fingers up your butt?” he asked flatly. 

Armin managed a rueful grin and reached out to take the bottle of oil from Jean’s other hand. He used it to slick his own fingers before tossing it the short distance to the ground and stroking Jean’s cock once again. Jean grit his teeth, pressing into the touch and resumed working his fingers, adding a third.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Jean breathed again, distracted as Armin simultaneously thumbed the slit of his cock and ground down on his fingers. “Keep doing that and I won’t last.”

“You’d better,” Armin gasped, “because I didn’t let you get me into this mess just to get fingerfucked.”

“ _Eloquent_ ,” Jean snickered, then yelped when he felt fingernails prick his shaft in warning. “All right, _shit_ ,” Jean muttered and pulled his hand from between Armin’s legs to grab at his cable. It slipped. Jean swore again as Armin huffed a laugh. “So maybe I didn’t think this through,” he admitted.

“Maybe?” Armin teased, then squawked indignantly when Jean reached out to wipe his hand on the front of Armin’s shirt. Armin didn’t get the chance to complain further, however, before Jean hooked his fingers in his chest strap and pulled him close to kiss him, slow and wet.

“Got anything else to say about it?” Jean asked when they pulled apart.

Armin dazedly shook his head.

“Good.” Jean held Armin steady while he pulled his knees up and threaded his legs to rest at the juncture of Armin’s hips and the little metal swivel joints where his cables connected. He grinned as he gently maneuvered a suddenly pliant Armin to better seat him in his lap, then sighed in relief when his abdominal muscles relaxed. He hadn’t realized how much he’d been straining them by holding his legs up on his own.

“We look ridiculous,” Armin said with an amused but undoubtedly aroused look on his flushed face.

“Shut up, we look hot,” Jean told him. He pried Armin’s hand from his cock to rest it behind his neck and gave it a pat to indicate he should hold on, then wound his own arm around the small of Armin’s back, tugging him very, very close. He could probably count every little sun-kissed spot on his lover’s nose, and would do, later. But now… “You ready, baby?” he breathed.

Armin’s answer was a filthy kiss.

Jean groaned into Armin’s mouth as he pressed inside the hot, velvety confines of his strong little body. Armin stiffened and dropped his forehead to Jean’s shoulder with a little drawn-out mewl as they steadily fit together. He was tight, and perfect, and when Jean finally bottomed out he shifted his hips just enough to make his boy sigh and melt against his chest.

“You gotta do the rest,” he said hoarsely, and with that, Armin began to move.

The rolls of Armin’s hips were small at first, gentle, testing undulations that seemed almost shy and made Jean burn. It was erotic, slow-fucking mid-air wrapped in leather and steel, and Jean was certain he could get off from it in time, but he was also impatient and knew a chance like this wouldn’t likely come again. He thrust up at Armin’s next roll down and was gifted with a loud moan.

“That’s it, baby,” Jean groaned in encouragement and thrust up again. Armin yelped and scrabbled at Jean’s neck, but took Jean’s cue, grinding his hips down with much more force than before. He quickly increased the pace, rocking against Jean harder and faster until all Jean could think about was the slick-slide of hot flesh and the loud moans ringing among the trees. Armin tightened around him, which meant he was close, so Jean risked letting go of the cable with his other hand to wrap it around his pert little cock.

Armin gasped and stiffened, then let go with a shudder. Jean fucked him through it, licking lewdly into his open mouth and came a moment later, hard, and trembling.

They slumped against each other afterward, sweat cooling as they panted and swayed in the breeze. Jean’s body hurt: his core, his lower back, his legs. By the way Armin clinged to his chest, Jean didn’t think he fared much better.

“Who’s the genius now?” Jean bragged.

Armin sat up enough to pin his lover with a flat look and opened his mouth to comment, but froze when a particularly loud and particularly obvious throat cleared from the ground down below.

“Captain Kirschtein,” came Erwin Smith’s deep, even voice.

Jean felt all the blood drain from his body. This... _this_ was not part of the plan. He closed his eyes and willed his thudding heart to slow as Armin wilted and buried his face in Jean’s chest. “Yes, sir?” He winced at the unexpected crack in his voice.

“If you’re done fraternizing with my assistant, his presence is required in my office.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Armin.”

“Yes, sir?” Armin squeaked.

“I expect you in my office in no more than fifteen minutes.”

“Yes, sir.”

There was a long, uncomfortable pause before Jean could hear the soft plodding of the horse’s hooves as the Commander made his way back toward headquarters. He heaved a humiliated sigh.

Armin let loose an hysterical giggle. “ _Who’s the genius now?_ ” he snorted, then yelped at Jean’s admonishing pinch to his thigh.

Jean glared at him. He was already a dead man for fucking the Commander’s favorite; he didn’t need the favorite’s judgment, too. “We’d better get going,” he grumbled.

Armin smiled apologetically and dropped a kiss to Jean’s lips before pulling away to disentangle his limbs and lower himself to the ground.

Jean leaned back and stared at the twilit sky. All things considered, he supposed, there were worse ways to go than between your lover’s legs. He was a hero this day and would take whatever punishment Erwin Smith doled out. He grinned, and pulled the triggers.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: "The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry"  
> Team: Canon
> 
> On a scale of 1 to 10:
> 
> 1\. How in-character was my fic?  
> 2\. How well did my fic handle the prompt?  
> 3\. Overall enjoyment?
> 
>  
> 
> **Please comment below with your vote!**
> 
>  
> 
> [Here's a link to my competitor from Team AU](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4553208)
> 
>  
> 
> [Please check out the other works for the Jearmin Summer Splash Here!](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/JearminSummerSplash2015)
> 
>  
> 
> **Voting for this fic has concluded! A huge thanks to everyone who participated! It really means a lot!**
> 
> Like this fic? Check out my [other entry](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4551642)!


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